


The Fires In Your Attic That Rage Without Permission

by Thebonemoose



Series: Magnus and Lukas (beans and books, babey!) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, coffee shop/bookstore au, no beta we die like archive assistants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebonemoose/pseuds/Thebonemoose
Summary: Jon and Tim are baristas at a coffee shop, and Tim keeps inviting the annoying bookstore employee over to chat.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker
Series: Magnus and Lukas (beans and books, babey!) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688632
Comments: 40
Kudos: 269





	The Fires In Your Attic That Rage Without Permission

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends and enemies, welcome to the fic. The title is from Welcome To the Family by Watsky, and is not related to the fic at all, I just love the song. The idea for this au was born from a TMA discord server I'm in (shoutout to y'all, hope you like it <333)
> 
> Okay without further ado, here's the fic!

It began on a Wednesday, of all days. 

Wednesdays were typically fairly busy, and the person they usually shared their shifts with called out, so it was just Tim and Jon. Jon tried his best to be polite, but it was getting difficult, especially given how behind on orders they were. Well… truthfully, behind was probably an understatement. They were drowning in irritable customers; all battling coffee headaches and caffeine withdrawal of some form or another. 

That was when Tim had his…’bright idea.’

“Martin! Hey, come here!” he had called towards the bookstore, and Peter’s newest hire came bounding towards them. 

“Can you run the register? We’re swamped, we could really use an extra pair of hands,” Tim pleaded, and flashed the man his most charming smile. 

Martin grinned, said, “Sure!’ and took up a spot behind the counter. 

Jon had to admit, it had been helpful to have someone else on the register. And Martin’s friendly demeanor had instantly put even their grumpiest customers at ease. And, to be fair, Martin seemed to have taken to it easily enough.

But even so, there was _no_ reason for Tim to be so, so…

“Martin! Hey, Martin!”

...Damn _jovial_.

Jon sighed, and Martin came to the counter with an easy smile. “Hey, guys! Do you need extra help again today?”

Tim chuckled flirtatiously. “We sure do, Martin.”

Jon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The coffee shop was completely dead. It was so dead, in fact, that a damn tumbleweed just rolled through on a light breeze. It was so dead the funeral was last week. It was so dead that, that-

“-Right, Jon?”

Jon snapped back to attention. “I’m sorry, what?” he said, and Tim looked at him smugly. 

“I said we’re always glad to have Martin around. He makes the work go by faster, don’t you agree?”

Jon’s face was impassive. “We’re here for eight hours, either way.”

“Well!” Tim clapped his hands together loudly. “ _That's_ a glowing recommendation if I’ve ever heard one!” Tim smiled at Martin again, who chuckled and ducked his head. 

Jon actually did roll his eyes that time. The last thing they needed was another poor sucker fawning over Tim.

“Anyways, budge over, Jon, let the man through,” Tim said, and Jon reluctantly moved aside so Martin could step behind the counter. 

Martin flashed him a small, grateful smile that Jon did not return. 

Something about Martin’s presence did, in fact, help the shift pass quicker, although Jon would never tell either of them that. Tim dismissed Martin while he and Jon cleaned up (something Tim had no authority to do, though he didn’t let that stop him.) As they were sanitizing the surfaces, Tim began to talk.

“I like Martin,” he said brightly. 

“Yes. I’ve noticed.”

Tim was unfazed. “I think we should ask Elias to move him to the coffee shop.”

Jon froze, his hand still clutching a wet rag. “And why would you do that?” he said, careful not to show his surprise. 

“Well, think about it! Lukas’s musty bookshop hardly gets any business, and we’re always flooded with customers.” Tim waved a bottle of disinfectant around as he spoke.

“Except for today.”

Tim sighed in exasperation. “Alright, fine. Except for today. The point stands, Lukas doesn’t need two employees; he can get by with just that Sasha girl. Nobody goes in there, anyways. It makes you feel… Weird.”

Jon shot Tim a skeptical look.

“No, really, Jon! I mean, Peter Lukas isn’t a very social person, it’s not too far of a stretch to assume he hates people and wanted to make his bookstore as claustrophobic and unfriendly as possible.”

Jon stared at Tim. “Yes it is, Tim, because how would he make any profit otherwise?” Jon said, deadpan. 

Tim shrugged. “You will never convince me Lukas does this for profit. He’s… filthy rich. Look up his net worth, Jon, you’ll vomit, it’s disgusting.”

“Ew.” Jon went back to scrubbing the counters.

“ANYWAYS! I was talking about Martin. I’m going to try to convince him to join us here. Besides, you never talk to me. Martin’s nice! And fun. And so cute!”

“Oh my god, Tim, I am _begging_ you not to seduce Martin. He wouldn’t survive it.”

Tim chuckled and waved his hand through the air, unbothered. “I won’t, I won’t. Probably. Well… Maybe. I don’t know, I might. We’ll see.”

Jon’s patience was hanging by a thread. “Damn it, Tim.”

Tim just laughed, but at least he left Jon alone after that. 

Of course, Tim kept inviting Martin over. Sometimes to help out behind the counter, but other times just to hang out. Still behind the counter, of course. This meant that oftentimes, Martin was in the way, given that he hadn’t yet learned how _not to be_. Tim went too easy on him, Jon decided. 

If he was going to be stuck behind the counter with Martin mooning over Tim all day, Martin should at least have the decency to not slow them down. 

Apparently, he did not, because it was a few weeks of Martin’s “help” before he’d figured out how to avoid colliding with people. In that time, Tim had bribed Martin with all manner of exclusive custom drinks and Gerry’s freshest baked goods. Martin always accepted eagerly with a chipper “thanks!”, and then he and Tim would inevitably spend the shift chatting, and being a general pain in Jon’s already-stiff neck. 

And of course, then Tim had the impertinence-- nay, the _audacity_ \-- to outright state that Martin made better drinks than Jon. 

Martin, whose prior drink-making experience was his nightly cup of Sleepy Time Tea. It was almost laughable, except that it was such an affront. 

Martin just laughed it off, of course. “No, I couldn’t possibly-- I mean, Jon’s been doing this for so long and I just started, and--”

“I know! We’ll have a contest!” Tim announced to the empty store, and Jon could not stop the annoyed grumble that emerged from his throat. 

Martin cast a nervous glance in his direction, which Jon did not meet or acknowledge. 

“We should have an impartial judge who’s never had a drink from either of you. We won’t announce who made what, and they’ll have to wear a blindfold. It’s perfect,” Tim said, self-satisfaction rolling off of him in waves. 

Jon held in a sigh. Martin continued to look nervous. It was exhausting, frankly.

Tim pivoted on his heel, one finger held up in the air. “Martin!”

Martin jumped slightly, and looked at Tim with wide eyes. “Er, yes?”

“Can you call your coworker over? She’s never had a drink from here, right?”

Martin nodded, and wordlessly stood to find Lukas’s only other employee. 

Jon wasted no time. “Tim, you’re an idiot.”

Tim tutted. “No, my precious Jonathan, I’m a genius. Think of it this way: if you’re so confident in your abilities, you have nothing to worry about, right? And if you have nothing to worry about, then there can be no doubt that you’ll win! And if you win, you’ll be able to lord your title of Drink Master Supreme over all of us peons. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Jon looked at Tim, straight-faced. No. You’re an idiot.”

“Someday I will force you to willingly participate in Some Shenanigans, and then you’ll discover the meaning of the word ‘fun’, or, if we’re very lucky, you’ll even discover what it means to ‘enjoy yourself.’ And that, my friend? That will be a beautiful day indeed.”

Before Jon could reply, Martin returned with his coworker. “Alright, Tim and Jon, this is Sasha. Sasha, meet Tim and Jon.”

“You don’t have to do this, Sasha. These two have hardly a brain cell to split between them, and I’m sure you have better things to be doing,” Jon said.

Tim made a noise of complaint. “I don’t know, it sounds like he’s scared to me. Does he sound scared to you, Martin?”

Martin almost tripped over himself in his hurry to assure Tim that Jon “Didn’t sound scared at all, hahaha!”

Jon was getting a stress headache. 

“Actually,” Sasha began, and all three pairs of eyes settled on her. “Martin promised me free drinks, so… I’m in.” She shrugged, a half-smile playing on her lips.

Tim exhaled excitedly. “Alrighty then! Judge Sasha, please tell our contestants what drink you’d like made today.”

Sasha screwed up her face and thought for a moment. Then she stood straighter, announced “A Chai Latte, please! With… Soy milk, and cinnamon. And whipped cream on the top!”

“You heard the lady! Chefs, please return to your stations. You have five minutes to make the better drink. Your time starts now.” Tim seemed to be having entirely too much fun hosting this incredible waste of time, but Jon couldn’t call him on it then. 

He had a contest to win. 

Martin seemed to pale at the discovery of the time limit, but Jon didn’t care. All he had to do was beat _Martin_. And Jon could do that in his sleep. 

He was done before the timer ran out, whereas Martin almost spilled his when the buzz of Tim’s clock app startled him. They carried their drinks out to the counter, where Tim took them to a booth occupied by a blindfolded Sasha. 

Jon had no idea where he found the blindfold. 

Sasha drank Jon’s first. She smacked her lips together, and took another sip. “Perfect temperature,” she muttered quietly. “Great balance of spices. Soy milk is fully incorporated. Just the right amount of cinnamon. This will be hard to beat,” she stated, and drank some water to cleanse her palate. 

Jon didn’t _preen_ , per se, but it was as close to it as a person could get without actually preening. 

Martin was looking at Jon, but when Jon met his gaze, Martin quickly looked away. 

It really was getting exhausting. 

Sasha drank from Martin’s latte in the same manner as she had from Jon’s. She was methodical, and took a few sips to be sure she had an equal amount of each. “A bit heavy on the whip cream,” she said, and Martin let out a quiet breath. “Good amount of cinnamon, although probably more than drink number one. The tea wasn’t steeped for long enough, but most people wouldn’t be able to tell. Alright, I’m ready to announce my decision.”

Sasha pushed the drink away from her and removed her blindfold. She motioned to the seats across from her, and Martin and Jon sat down. She folded her hands primly. “Drink number one was technically perfect. It had a fantastic blend of flavours, and was exactly what you’d want to order at a coffee shop.”

Jon bit his cheek to keep from smiling. 

“Drink number two was delicious, but it tasted more homemade. This is a drink I could have made for myself, or for a friend. It wasn’t perfect, but it was comforting. And because of this, I have to go with…”

Tim grinned widely, leaning over the top of Sasha’s booth as she paused before her reveal.

“...Drink number two. Although drink number one was stupendous, drink number two had something you don’t typically find in coffee shops. It was made with love,” Sasha smiled softly. 

“Well Martin, looks like you’ve won! Congratulations, pal.” Tim grinned at Martin. 

Martin just looked at Jon, fear in his eyes.

“Congratulations, Martin,” Jon said, slowly. This did not make Martin look any less afraid. 

Martin shook his head in horror. “I’m-- I’m sure there must be some mistake, I’m not a barista, I can’t have won.”

Jon sighed and rolled his eyes. He grabbed drink number two from the table and put it to his mouth, taking a big sip. “Mhmm. Tastes like love. You’ve won. Congrats! I’m going back to work.” Jon stood and left, shaking his head as he did. He didn’t glance behind him, but he was sure Martin still had that deer-in-the-headlights expression. 

Tim began chatting to Sasha, and Martin finally slid out of the booth, but Jon didn’t pay them any mind. He busied himself with reorganizing the add-ins, which did not need to be organized.

The day after the outstandingly obnoxious contest, Tim’s younger brother came into the shop. Martin wasn’t there that day, to Jon’s great satisfaction. 

“Hey Jon!” Danny said politely, and Jon nodded hello. “Tim around?”

“He should be back in a moment. I can grab him if it’s urgent.”

Danny shook his head. “Nah, that’s alright. Can I get a caramel macchiato?”

Jon nodded and took Danny’s order, then set about making the drink. Tim materialized before he was done, and in an unsurprising show of unprofessionalism, nearly vaulted over the counter to hug his brother. 

Jon never had any siblings, so he didn’t quite understand the… “showy” nature of their relationship. In fairness, that was probably due to the fact that this was Tim, not just any given pair of siblings.

Jon started paying attention to Tim’s (loud, and very public) conversation. “Do you know that bookstore guy I’ve been mentioning? Martin? He won a contest against our very own Jon Sims! Not just any contest, either, little Danny, a drink-making contest. Now Martin proudly bears the title ‘Drink Master Supreme,’ and Jon has no title at all, because he is a commoner.” 

Jon was not a violent man, nor was he physically strong by any stretch of the imagination. But Tim really brought out Jon’s unknown desire to start punching walls.

“Careful Tim, Jon’s looking a bit...murder-y.” Danny smiled good-naturedly.

“Ah, Jon’s fine. He loves me, really.”

“No I don’t.”

“We’re going to retire and be platonic life-partners together. We’re going to own seventy dogs, and live in a farmhouse.”

“Not a word of that is true.”

“He’s also my greatest friend in the world, and I will be naming my firstborn after him, regardless of gender. Baby Jonathan Sims Stoker. And of course, uncle Jon has to be the godfather, in case tragedy strikes me, or little Jonathan Sims Stoker’s other parent.”

“I will pay you to stop talking.”

“See? He cares about me, truly. Underneath that prickly exterior is a real kind guy, even if he does dress and act like a grumpy granny.”

“Timothy, you are a menace.”

“Jonathan, I make your life interesting and without me, you would be sad.”

“Incorrect.”

Danny snorted at them, and told Tim he had to be going. He waved goodbye to Jon, and gave Tim another hug. The bell above the door rang out as Danny exited.

“You’re no fun,” Tim said with an easy smile.

“I’m not paid to be fun.”

“If I convinced Elias to pay you to be fun, would you do it?”

“Probably not.”

“What if it was an outrageous amount of money? Like £5,000 an hour.”

“Still probably not.”

Tim whistled. “You drive a hard bargain, Jon.”

Jon rolled his eyes and went to fix call-in orders. 

“Hey, Jon?” Tim called several minutes later, when the store was mostly empty again.

“Yes, Tim?” Jon grumbled.

“Have you noticed that Martin seems pretty… nervous, around you?” Tim asked.

Jon shrugged. “For all I know, he’s like that constantly.”

Tim just shook his head, frowning. “No, it seems like he has trouble relaxing around you.”

“Well, I hardly see how that’s my fault. I treat him perfectly fine.”

Tim cocked his head and made a high pitched noise in the back of his throat, a grimace on his face.

Jon sighed. “What, Tim?”

He scrunched up his face. “Well, to be honest, you’re a dick to Martin. I mean you’re kind of a dick in general, but I like you anyways because I can tell you don’t mean to be. But with Martin it’s like you’re being a dick on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Tim,” Jon said, hackles raised. 

Tim put his hands up and leaned back against the counter. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m not attacking you. I just thought you should be aware, and maybe go easy on the guy, alright? You’re a good person, it’s not like you to hurt someone on purpose.”

Jon ignored the deep rush of guilt he felt at Tim’s words. He straightened, and set his jaw. “Fine. I’ll… try to be nicer. Happy?”

Tim beamed, pleased. “Yes, I am, as a matter of fact. Now, I have a very important question to ask you.”

Jon braced himself for something mind-numbingly asinine.

“Do you want to get drinks tonight?”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Is Martin coming?”

“He doesn’t have to. I can invite Martin and Sasha if you’d like, but if that’s a deal-breaker then I won’t.”

Jon worried the inside of his cheek. “I’ll come if it’s just you and me.”

Tim grinned happily. “Yay! Bonding! It’s gonna be a blast, Jon, just wait.” Tim kept chattering away to Jon through the rest of their shift and as they closed, and then they grabbed their coats, and went for drinks.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been for drinks with Tim, but Jon was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. Tim was easy to be around, even if he was a hopeless flirt and entirely too obnoxious. He was, for all intents and purposes, Jon’s friend. 

When Jon got home that night, he dumped his keys on the credenza and toed his shoes off neatly at the door, then collapsed onto his bed. 

He kept trying to forget what Tim said earlier, about him being too mean to Martin. It was true that he didn’t actually want to hurt Martin, but well... Martin was borderline incompetent, and Jon had trouble being around people who were bad at their jobs.

Although, to be fair, his brain supplied, Martin didn’t actually work at the coffee shop. Not at this point in time, at least. 

He huffed a sigh and shrugged out of his jacket. He’d think about it later. All he wanted to do in that moment was get under his blankets and fall asleep, so that was what he did. 

And he was definitely _not_ thinking about Martin before he succumbed to sleep’s blissful embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be a part of a series that will hopefully have around ten fics in it, all in the same au and in chronological order (probably.) Pretty much nothing bad will happen because I hate sadness but I love coffee shop aus and slow(ish) burns. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated and I'll see you in the next one :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Fires In Your Attic That Rage Without Permission](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637991) by [Will_Mc_Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Will_Mc_Hope/pseuds/Will_Mc_Hope)




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